An Eternal Flame
by Screaming Ferret
Summary: Hannibal's thoughts at the House on the Chesapeake. A songfic, and a first for me.


  
A/N: I was suffering from writer's block when I wrote this. It's inspired by the song 'Eternal Flame' by the Bangles. A song I've had stuck in my head for the last week.   
  
Disclaimer: Hannibal and Clarice belong to Thomas Harris. The song is by the Bangles.  
  
  
An Eternal Flame   
  
  
Close your eyes  
  
Give me your hand, darling.  
  
He took the knife from her suddenly weak fingers. The expensive silverware heavy in his hand, Hannibal Lecter considered the woman before him. She leaned away, her eyes unfocused. Her hand, trapped in his, was shaking. Perhaps the morphine was accountable for that.  
  
Dr Lecter drew the flat of the blade across the tops of her knuckles.  
  
"That's a good girl. Good."  
  
He laid the knife just out of her reach on the polished oak table. Cupping her cheek in his hand, the doctor smiled at her. Her gaze shot daggers back.  
  
Do you feel my heart beating?  
  
Do you understand?  
  
Do you feel the same?  
  
He had carried her out of Mason Verger's barn through the pigs, brought her home and tended to her wounds. Why? Not to be stabbed with his own tableware, that was certain.  
  
Am I only dreaming?  
  
Is this burning  
  
An eternal flame?  
  
Paul Krendler´s hair was unpleasantly sweaty. Dr Lecter carefully prised the top of that gentleman's skull off, to a gasped "Dr Lecter!" from his guest. She was staring at him, an expression of mingled horror and disgust on her exquisite face.  
  
"You see, the brain itself feels no pain, if that concerns you, Clarice" he told her softly, taking his tools from the side. "For instance, Paul won't miss this part, the pre-frontal lobe. The seat of good manners." He half-smiled then, but she did not seem to appreciate his joke. Quite understandable, given her views on good and evil, right and wrong. Did she not understand that Krendler would only hurt her far more than `Hannibal the Cannibal´ ever would?  
  
She leaned forward, supporting herself on the table edge, making eye contact. "Your profile - at the border stations" she gasped "has five features. I'll trade you -"  
  
No, no, little Starling. "Trade?" he said sharply, stung by her willingness to make such a bargain. That she would do so for a creature like Krendler was doubly insulting, to her as well as himself.  
  
"How does that word taste to you, Clarice? Cheap and metallic - like sucking on a greasy coin?" He shook his head, irritated. The movement dispelled his anger, and he was calm again.  
  
I believe it's meant to be, darling.  
  
I watch you when you are sleeping.  
  
  
  
Dr Lecter had made all his plans before Verger's men struck. His memories of that particular night were unpleasant, to say the least. It had all so nearly ended in disaster.  
  
He had brought her back here, to rooms he had prepared, and he had spent a sleepless day and night sitting beside her bed. When she tossed and turned in her sleep, he administered more calming drugs. When she was still, he was still too. Content to watch and remember, to plan and to dream. Content to wait, knowing she was home at last.  
  
You belong with me.  
  
In the prison of his soul, there was but a single light. A flame, burning against all hopelessness and despair. She was so close now, and that flame burned higher, becoming an inferno. Searing in its heat, agonizing in its intensity. It was unbearable, unquenchable and totally unbelievable. How empty he must have been before.  
  
Do you feel the same?   
  
Now she was stalling again. Trying to buy more time before the cavalry arrived. It was a transparent attempt, but he could not be discourteous enough to refuse her some wine. He held the glass to her lips, but she turned her face away. Dr Lecter sipped it himself. He was disappointed. Disappointed in her, really. She would not see, refused to see her plight. They were alike in many ways, the doctor mused. Both trapped in prisons of our own making. But while he could see an escape route, a way out for both of them, she seemed content behind bars.   
  
"Given the chance, you would deny me my life, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Not your life." He was not entirely surprised by her reply. It was a little more encouraging than a simple `yes´.  
  
"My freedom, then. Just that." And we both know its not `just´ anything. "If you captured me, do you think they would have you back? The FBI? The people you despise almost as much as they despise you? Would they give you a medal, do you think? And would you have it professionally framed and hung on the wall, to remind you of your courage and incorruptibility?"  
  
She was silent. At last, the monster reflected. Think, little Starling. "All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror."  
  
He smiled. His smile had frightened many, but not Clarice. She was, and would forever be, different. Apart from the common herd. He had recognised her potential when she had stood before him in his dungeon. So many lifetimes ago. And yet here he was, standing before her cell, and she was blind.  
  
Am I only dreaming?  
  
It took a matter of moments to gather the plates and wheel the main course back out to the kitchen. Whistling softly, the doctor scraped the plates off as the recently lobotomised Mr Krendler sang nursery songs to himself. Exasperated, Dr Lecter flung a tea towel over the man's head and he fell silent.  
  
He scented her first, even over the usual kitchen aromas. Then, the soft whisper of fabric against flesh confirmed his guess. Was she armed? He could only assume so. Moving with the speed and strength for which he was rightly feared, he spun, catching her and pinning her against the cold, white refrigerator. She stared at him, shock and puzzlement in her grey eyes. She was unarmed. Never assume, the doctor thought, surprised himself. Starling met his gaze, unafraid.  
  
"Hannibal" she said.  
  
Say my name,  
  
Sun shines through the rain  
  
A whole life  
  
So lonely,  
  
Then you come and ease my pain.  
  
  
He kissed her then, deeply and passionately. Wondrously, she allowed him in. His name on her lips, her taste sweeter than wine. He had dreamed of this, and more. He wound his arms around her slender body, revelling in her glory. Then she broke away from him. Dr Lecter frowned, but she shook her head.  
  
"The police are on their way. Don't leave me here, Hannibal. Take me with you."  
  
As if her words had triggered it, the world seemed to heave. The universe spun slowly, falling and slipping into an abyss.   
  
Hannibal Lecter awoke suddenly. Don't leave me here. Take me with you. A whisper of a voice, a hint of laughter on the sea breeze. The scent of salt, a taste of his own tears. He was alone, alone in the iron dark. And the night painted her face on the darkness before him, her lips curved in a sad smile.  
  
Am I only dreaming....   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
